It hurts her so
by CelestialGrace
Summary: Clary Fray is forced to seek refuge amongst the Shadowhunters - a race she had never knew existed until that fatal day. But her woes and strife are not over as she is tormented ceaselessly by Jace Wayland and his cronies: the Lightwoods, Blackthorns and Penhallow, as she tries to fit into this new extraordinary world. She has lost her home, her mother, her father figure and her b.f
1. Chapter 1: Her Sanctuary

**Author's Note: Hello there, I hope you enjoy this start to the story. I'll be releasing the next Chapter whenever it's ready. All I need from everyone is honest and helpful reviews. I've never written a fanfic before, and I haven't attempted to write a story in a very long time, so I feel rusty. **

**Let me know what you like and hate. Where you'd like the story to go. Or even if you like the story at all.**

_**I most obviously do not own any rights to the works of Cassandra Clare**_

_It hurts her so_

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*Pl-op* the sound emanated over her, alongside the contents of the beaker placed on the table she was sitting at; and the feeling of dread quite often brought about by these situations. She tucked her hands under the table, knotting her fingers within the fabric of her top, readying herself for the oncoming abuse. But as she looked up into the threatening golden eyes, she knew would be behind this, she saw that the atmosphere of the situation was different.

"I thought I'd be nice enough to return this antique, you, call a phone." The culprit announced, whilst smirking at her mercilessly. His cronies were wailing with laughter, as her mind screamed in her misery. "_No, no, no... not my phone!_" She felt her eyes welling up and tried to fight back the tears. "_I will not cry in front of them – I've prevented it so far, don't fail now... not even for this...". _

She took her time to calm down, but as she did she realised she'd taken too long. It had been obvious from her prolonged silence, that they had hurt her, that they had achieved their malevolent goal. Breathing deeply, she cautiously scanned the faces of the people surrounding her, nearly all were still laughing. But the aureate young man standing amongst them was no longer laughing, nor the ethereal dark beauty standing beside him. Isabelle's silky tones called out to her. "What's wrong Fray? Couldn't look after your mundane crap? Haha!"

Clarissa flinched back into her chair. This was too much for her, and she had to get out of there. Attempting to sense if there was anyone blocking her path to the door leading to the rest of the Institute, without having to turn her back on her attackers, Clarissa planned her escape. They were all still laughing and pointing at her face. She could assume to know why too, as she felt her cheeks burning and knew that they were most likely the same colour as her copper hair, but she needed to use this as a distraction, to use it to run. The moment the group of friends bent into each other to laugh harder, she pushed herself out of the chair, leapt towards the direction of the door and forced her short legs to work hard and get herself out of there. She had pulled herself through the door by the time they'd straightened themselves up, and was making it towards the only place she'd ever felt safe since having to seek refuge within these walls. Hodge's greenhouse.

Once in the corridor heading towards her sanctuary, she could hear the group laughing even harder at her escape. But she could also hear the blood-curdling sound of someone pursuing her, and had to push herself harder than she ever had, to increase the distance between whoever it was and herself. She knew that she couldn't face yet another torturous blow, not today; she was at her limit once again, so as soon as she came across one of the smaller passages built into the Institute through which most average sized 16 year olds could not fit, she pushed her way through and tried her best to move quietly, so as to not give away her destination.

At the end of the passage she stopped to listen for anyone following her or approaching the greenhouse, and found that the way was clear. She leapt from her hiding place and lunged at the door, throwing herself inside. A flood of relief threw itself over her body, and she could finally feel herself relaxing for the first time since waking that morning. As she looked around in the evening sunlight, the scents and sight of the wonderful flowers blooming in the greenhouse still amazed her, and sent goosebumps all over her body, it didn't even feel like she had already been here for two months, and this would have been her 100th escape. Clarissa made her way to the east wing of the greenhouse, and to her favourite hideaway, where she had stashed her mothers sketchbook along with her own and a few pencils. Settling herself into the window seat there, she hugged her mothers book to her chest and finally allowed herself to cry.

Over the day the pain and hurt inflicted upon her by those hellions had climaxed at the point her phone was destroyed. She would have been able to contain the damage, if it had not been for that final blow. But still "_What worse could they do now?" _she asked herself thinking back on the day. Thinking back on everything and letting the sobs take over her body. Wayland and his cronies had destroyed the only images and recordings left of her mother. There was nothing left now. No chance for her to reminisce upon the best times in her life. She was truly alone in this unfamiliar world, and could ask no one for comfort; not even this sketchbook, it was the place her mother took herself when she wanted to be alone. The side of herself she couldn't share with her daughter, and it hurt Clarissa so. The sobs racked her body as she let the pain flow out of her. As she sobbed she started to fall asleep.

Clarissa shuddered awake at the sound of someone stomping around within the greenhouse. Her neck was stiff and her eyes felt sore and puffy, and then she could smell the sweet smelling plants surrounding her, and realised that she was still in her sanctuary. But she also became aware that someone else was here too. Listening carefully she could tell, that they were in the west wing near to the rock pool nestled in between long grasses, however she could also tell that they were not looking for someone – she was still safe, as long as she was smart enough to duck down and hide. At which point she decided it was better to act sooner than later, and she went to slink down off the windowsill she'd made a bed out of.

Just as she did, the sketchbook and pencils that had been resting in her lap fell to the floor, causing quite the ruckus...


	2. Chapter 2: A Mother's Legacy

**Hello there once again,**

**Here's the next chapter to my fanfic story. I will put a warning here as it has mature language within the chapter.**

**I've had some brilliant and helpful reviews which have helped me to focus the direction of the story. So thank you very much guys. I am still looking for more helpful reviews as the story goes on – as I've said before it has been a very long time since I tried to write a story, and the first time I've tried a fanfic! Some may not understand the direction it is taking but if you stay strapped in to your seats – I feel like it will be worth the ride.**

**As obvious as it may be, I will once again state that ****I own no rights**** to the wonderful Mortal Instruments. They belong to the magnificent Cassandra Clare.**

**I hope you enjoy my contribution.**

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She threw herself down on to the floor, and listened carefully to see if they were coming over to her location, but just then Church the Institute's cat slinked past her and yowled at the oncoming individual.

"Oh, it's you Church! What have you broken now, eh?" She could tell by the voice that it was Jace, and her heart started hammering against her ribs in fear. Once again, getting away from him required fast action, luckily being only 5ft 2" and small for it, Clarissa could move deftly, so she silently picked up her belongings and hid amongst the bushes of four o'clocks nearby, hoping the bright colours would mask her fiery-red hair.

But it didn't seem to matter either way, because Jace didn't come any closer to her hiding place, and from the loud purring she could assume it was because he was now busy giving all of his attention to the fat Russian-blue. She allowed herself to relax a little, knowing that she would now be stuck within the four o'clocks for an inevitable amount of time, and laid herself down amongst the roots and dirt.

Jace had coaxed Church to the rock pool so that he could perch on it's edge and continue to pet the grouchy beast more comfortably, and it was at this point he started to confide in the cat. Clarissa rolled her eyes, all she needed now was to overhear an arsehole's made up problems; but still maybe it could provide her with some humour to draw from when he next causes her grief, and it was not like she could just get up and leave. However what he said next made her ears perk up, it seemed so hard to believe.

"Why do I, do it Church..? I am horrid to people all of the time... I don't even understand why I feel the need to do it. I don't want to; but I feel pressured to come up with these horrible schemes to belittle others – like I can't be anyone else. I know it's no excuse, that if I just had some guts, I could stop it all... but still." He paused sighing heavily, and Clarissa didn't know what to do with herself; she felt like laughing at his pathetic excuses, possibly punching him for being such an ass or even crying – cause she knew this meant that the onslaught would just keep on coming, and then that's when he said it. "...It has to be to do with him Church... Why else would I act like this? As if it's natural to me? All those 'lessons' he gave me. All the preaching... Will I never break free of his hold on me?! Achk!" A loud spitting hiss came from their location, and Clarissa could tell that Church had, had just about enough of Jace's shit, as she had. Jace Wayland had the cheek to try to blame his actions on someone else. Typical.

However outrageous a revelation, she was overly-thankful for Church's input, as her body had started going numb from staying in one position for so long, and it seemed that the drama-queen was about to depart in a huff, so she would finally be free of the four o'clocks, dirt and roots. At the sound of stomps and then the door closing heavily within the greenhouse, Clarissa pulled the sketchbook and pencils out from her hiding place, after herself. She would need to remember that hidey-hole for future reference.

Upon standing up and stretching out her petite frame, she began trying to get the twigs and debris out of her roiling mass of curls. Her fiery tendrils had always given her trouble, it was hard to manage and time-consuming, but her mother had liked her hair this way the best, so she felt inclined to keep it this way now... in memoriam to the loving mother she had lost. Stroking her mother's sketchbook she thought of her mother's smile, often surrounded by paint and under-eye bags, and framed by hair even more blazing than her own. Yes, that's right. Her mother's fire ran through her too – Jocelyn Fairchild had left all that she had known behind when she went into the mundane world, to raise Clarissa by herself. She was fierce, and now her daughter had to be too, as she left that world behind her. Clarissa Fray will be her mother's legacy.

At this declaration, Clarissa took off for her room, no longer caring if anyone tried to torment her along the way. She was determined to conquer this world now. She was not going to let this turmoil overwhelm her; Shadowhunter is her apellation too and as such, she will live up to the name. Speeding through the Institute she finally came upon her door, and shoved into it hard as she entered the room. Since coming to the Institute in haste, she had brought little with her, the room was as plain as nearly all of the other rooms kept ready for visiting members of the Shadowhunter race, however she did have a few sketches tacked to the walls, around the simple bed with it's bedside table, desk and wardrobe occupying the room. She went straight to the bedside where she had been keeping the strange book given to her upon her arrival. Hodge had told her it was a book that all Shadowhunter children owned, and was vital to her development within the Institute. She had neglected it at the time, too traumatised to process the information it contained. But now she was ready.

Pulling her desk chair next to the window, a Gothic frame of mix-matched glass now looking out on to a dimming sky, Clarissa grabbed the Shadowhunter's Codex and her blanket and settled into the chair to engulf herself in the knowledge provided by the text. Letting herself be filled with the wonder and curiosities of her new world opening up before her, as understanding grew within herself. She stayed glued to the book for several hours, reading parts of it over and over again, until her head began to hurt and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

But upon waking with yet another stiff neck, and pair of sore eyes, Clarissa did not feel understanding for her own mother's actions. If this world was so brilliant, why had Jocelyn Fairchild discarded her own name, something that many Shadowhunter families seemed to worship, isolated herself from her own race and tried so hard to keep Clarissa from discovering the real world she lived in? A world in which all the stories she'd heard growing up were true. What had happened to make her mother live a life in exile...? These were all questions she would not find the answers to herself, and she knew it. So therefore solving these uncertainties was a problem she could not yet face, however finding out the details that the codex failed to include, and the real goings on of this world was something she could face. From now on she would train secretly, study what she could within the library, and then when ready she would attempt to convince Hodge Starkweather to let her join the other villainous occupants of the Institute in their 'investigations'. Clarissa suspected that the Shadowhunter's main occupation of hunting and killing other races was a part of her mother's renunciation – but as she couldn't tell for sure, she would have to involve herself in this warriors life.

*Involve herself she did. The next day she decided she was going to ask Hodge to let her start training with the other inhabitants. Of course it would have to be after yet another unpleasant breakfast, surrounded by the world's number-one arsehole and his herd of sheep, in which Jace had continued to goad her about the phone he had joyously destroyed the day before; after hearing his confession the previous evening, all Clarissa could do was glare at them all and urge herself to eat her porridge faster, so as to get to Hodge before morning lectures started.

*(A.N: I felt the above paragraph didn't quite make sense, nor did it fit with my next chapter so I have edited it)


	3. Chapter 3: Grit and Determination

**Hello guys!**

**Well.. it looks like I managed to finish off this chapter tonight! Sorry for that long wait, I will try to work overtime to keep this story updated from now on though!**

**As mentioned before I had trouble with writer's block but now I seem to be back on track. Hopefully you readers will continue to like the direction this is heading in; let me know if there's anything I could do to improve! Criticisms welcome!**

**Bit of a shorter chapter, and it almost fills like a filler piece but still :)**

**It should be painfully obvious but I do not own any of Cassandra Clare's work: The Mortal Instruments.**

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She found Hodge Starkweather exactly where she expected him to be; at his desk within the library. Clarissa felt apprehensive, since coming to the institute the night of her mother's death Hodge had been kind enough to her, but he distanced himself from the attacks she had been facing, which made her wonder if he was actually being nice towards her, or If he was just obligated to show concern, Clarissa had no idea how her request would be received. However, once she had managed to ask the Institutes' tutor if she could start to train, he seemed to be pleased at her sudden interest in her heritage, enthusing about the wonders that laid ahead of Clarissa, much to her relief. It was agreed that she would not be able to join Hodge's other pupils, as they were far too developed, so Hodge was to provide Clarissa with private tutoring until she was at an acceptable level to meet their standards. Hodge warned her that it may take her some time, and that she would need patience, grit and determination to see her through. At this point Clarissa requested Hodge to keep knowledge of her progress between herself, Hodge, and the heads of the Institute, Maryse and Robert Lightwood, as she didn't want to provide more fuel to the fires of her bullies, but knew to stay here, she would need to provide evidence of her training.

"Ah... yes. Unfortunately you do seem to be having trouble with fitting in with the other trainees..." Hodge mused, which caused Clarissa to suck in a breath audibly, as an angry colour began to flush her cheeks. He looked at her with curiosity. "You may think me cold to not step in and stop their bullying, but I am not of good standing within the Shadowhunter community. We are a proud race, and my youthful mistakes put me below the families with children training within this Institute. I cannot scold them, and they all know it. I am sorry for you Clarissa. But it would not be beneficial for you to seem to be in my favour either way." A deep silence fell between them, as this information sunk in, and puzzlement took over Clarissa, but within minutes the silence was broken. Hodge had thought of a way for Clarissa to spend her time, whilst he was tutoring the others; she was to start gardening within his greenhouse. He gave her an instructive book and told her to be ready for lessons at 2pm, when he'd meet her by the rock pool; at which point he left to ready himself for tutoring.

As it was only 9:30 am, Clarissa decided to peruse the plethora of books available within the library. It was a grand room, built into the centre of the Institute, with shelves all along the walls, it even had an upper floor, and several ladders on coasters were provided (Score). Clary had always loved books, and had dreamed of such a library since watching a film as a child (A.N: can anyone guess the film?). But it also brought her to thinking of why she loved books; Luke. He had been her father figure for as long as she could remember, he owned an independent book store which meant that he would bring her books to read whenever he came to see her mother, which was a lot, and even when Clarissa had, had to stay with Luke, his house had been filled with stock. All that time spent around books, Luke, and her mother had given her such elation. Even now, they had caused a smile to form on her lips at the bittersweet memories. Her mother had died, but Luke hadn't. He was was out there, somewhere. Luke had been so insistent when forcing her to go to the Institute, and she still didn't understand why she could not stay with him; they were both grieving, lost, afraid and in need of answers but she couldn't stay with him? Luke had said that she needed to be with her own kind, and yet it was Luke who had to show her the Institute through it's glamour, it was Luke that she had known all her life, he was her kin and kind, and he must be a part of this strange world too – but how? Clarissa was tiring of creating questions she did not yet know how to answer, so she decided to pick up a random book to read in solitude, and left through the grand doors carrying both books, heading for her room.

Clarissa had settled herself into her new nestling space, made up of the uncomfortable office chair next to the window, and desk occupying the space within her room, and opened up the strange tome she had found, flicking through the dusty pages and assessing her find. It appeared to instruct Shadowhunters of the best weapons to use whilst faced with different situations, creatures and their uses, a brilliant resource within her eyes, and as such she decided to give the greenhouse a skip, continuing to read until the little tin clock she'd set to alarm her of her training.

Knowing that those who wished to torment her would be free to roam within the halls now that their own training had finished, Clarissa decided to take her little passage towards the greenhouse, once she found the right corridor, as she wasn't in the mood for Wayland and his cronies' crap; cutting through the spider webs and dust to meet Hodge in time. Once she got to the opening near to the greenhouse, she could hear Mr. Starkweather coming down from the other end of the corridor, so decided to once again dive for the greenhouse door, planting the book open beside her, on the low rock wall of the little pool just as the clock struck 2pm. At which point Hodge, entered swiftly moving towards her, and Clarissa Fray started on her journey to become a Shadowhunter warrior.

A few months later...

It was decided that she would have a review every few months, so that progress could be measured, at the first of these reviews, Hodge exclaimed at how well Clarissa was advancing, she was being tutored in Shadowhunter History, Politics, Weaponry, Runing and of the Shadow World's inhabitants, and Hodge had even started to train her physically, and she was at the same level of his other tutees, within several weeks, compared to their 10 year head start. Clarissa herself was not surprised, she had been secretly studying in all of her spare time, even sneaking off to the training room at night to hone her skills with weapons and punchbags; she doubted that any of the other Institutes' pupils would ever pull their heads out of their own arses to put in as much effort, to be the best Shadowhunter they could be.

An effort it was indeed, Clarissa was exhausted, bruised and battered, and headache-y. But it had paid off, her thin arms had become refined with muscle, she could feel the strength starting to build in her short and once stubby legs, and even her childlike features had started to slim down, and it all made her feel like a different person. However she needed a break from here, she needed to walk the streets of New York once again, go to her favourite places... maybe even see one of her favourite people?

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Like where this is going? *wiggles eyebrows*

~CelestialGrace


	4. Chapter 4: Spindly arms count, okay

**Hey again guys :)**

**I have another chapter for your enjoyment, however it seems to be a bit more of a filler I'm sorry! But it's necessary. I felt I needed to show Clary's relationship with all the other Institute tutees, but I also needed to include something from outside of the Institute. So here we go.**

**Please help me out with some reviews? -pulls pleading face- I'm ready for the bad and the good, as I want to improve so please go ahead and tell me what you think!**

**It should be obvious - but I do not own any of the works of Cassandra Clare. The characters, places, and races mentioned within this fiction, are all her work.**

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Yes, Clarissa had grown up amongst the race that Shadowhunters call 'Mundane', and she was considered one of them within New York, but she had a feeling that the only reason people hadn't come looking for her, was because they probably thought her to be missing or even worse, dead. So how could she go strolling through the streets, without causing mayhem? It was obvious that she would need to use a glamour, and it was not a rune she had yet tried, she didn't even have her own stele, so she was at a loss of what to do... Maybe for now, she'll simply use disguise to get around. But first she would need a simple test, Luke. Surely, he would still have to be working? He would have been the only one left to mourn for her and her mother, to answer the questions police had; and sure enough, he could now answer the questions she had.

Now, the next problem Clarissa had, was that she didn't have many clothes at the Institute, and none of them were disguise worthy. There had to be some kind of lost and found within these many walls, and she was going to find it. Clarissa had come accustomed to getting around the place causing as little sound as she humanly could, she was at a disadvantage to everyone who could rune themselves at their own leisure, so had to use caution and sense to get past her tormentors. Of course, it's not like she had never been runed.

On the night of her mother's death, Luke had pulled her into a cab, supporting her heavily, as her injuries left her vision blurred and limbs pulsing. At one point she was certain she could see a treacle like substance oozing from the marks along her arm, and that Luke had been urging her to stay with him, but now it seemed far too surreal for her to be confident in what had been real, and what had been shock induced. There couldn't have really been a Ravener demon in her mundane home, could there? In her memories, she could see herself fending the beast off with whatever she could grab, which turned out to be a chair and kitchen knife, swiping at it whenever it got to close to her, however as she was herding it into her room, Luke ran into the room pushing the remainder of the door in with him, distracting Clarissa long enough to let the Ravener sink it's many teeth into the soft tissues of her arm, at which point it dislodged it's fangs as she had stabbed it and threw it behind the locked door of her bedroom. Luke had cursed heavily, urging her to leave, insisting that a Hospital wouldn't help, she needed different help, the help of her people, and that she couldn't stay with him. She was runed for the first time, at the brink of death within the vestibule of the Institute, with an Iratze that took her consciousness with it's pain. When she woke several days after the events of that night, she had another rune, Voyance, stark against the pale skin of her right hand.

Since then, she'd only seen runes on other Shadowhunters and within the Gray book, she only used them when sketching and practising with her 'practice stele', unable to get her own Adamas tool. However whilst looking at these marks, she also got the niggling feeling that she remembered seeing certain ones somewhere within her childhood. It still confused her, she felt like she could remember seeing certain things throughout her younger years, and yet her memories were all fuzzy. Clarissa could pinpoint no real elements of the Shadow world within her childhood, almost as if there was something blocking her from recalling such things, but it was no longer blocking them completely, and the edges of her memory blurred. This was obviously something she would have to ask Hodge about, as it might lead to developing an explanation of why her mother was dead. But now, she needed to focus on getting her break from here. She continued on her way, edging past the kitchen, after having checked the rooms around the training room, greenhouse and library.

"Have you seen little red these days...? Hahaha, she's got little spindly muscles now! How proud do you think she is? Hahaha" She heard Aline's distinctive tones, flowing out of the room in which her tormentors loved to occupy, along with their herd-like laughter, irking her greatly. Crud, how had she not thought of the fact that the others might actually notice. Plus it was hurtful to think that they could laugh at all of her efforts so easily, they would have been like her in the past, as all people had to start somewhere. "Pschh. Mundanes shouldn't try so hard to fit in, they will never match up to us." Came Alec's sombre tones. She was astounded at how pigheaded they could be. Yes, she'd grown up amongst the Mundanes, but she was still all Shadowhunter, if not a better version, as she didn't see herself as something so above another race. They were going to see. She was going to become the best she could be, and take them all on, at their own jobs. Then she will be the one laughing. Clarissa couldn't allow this onslaught to delay her plans though, so pushed on past.

She checked within the confines of all the rooms lining the corridor, and then just as she started to doubt the plan she had formulated, she came upon a crumpled cardboard box inside a cramped cupboard, in which she found a varied amount of junk – Clarissa couldn't formulate a logical explanation for where these lost items came from, but took joy in having found them. She picked out a scarf and some ridiculous sunglasses, glad that the autumn weather allowed for such apparel to go unnoticed within the city, with it's chilly winds and dazzling sunlight. However, she felt this would not be a successful disguise without a coat, and maybe even a hat, so got to thinking of where to find these items, when it suddenly struck her that the other residents of the Institute were nonchalant about where they left their jackets, so knew she'd find something to borrow around the bottom of the lift Shadowhunters used to get in and out of the building.

When Clarissa came upon the clothing left in piles along the benches lining the walls of the corridor, she huffed. This plan had taken a lot longer to carry out then she had anticipated, and she now had to sort through these. The day was slipping past her. Making an exec decision Clarissa decided to pull anything out from under a random pile, and hope for the best; the first time she tried she produced a woolly hat that smelt musty – she tried to imagine who it belonged to but failed miserably, the second time she came across a holey parka and shrugged it on to her small frame. It smothered her, but she felt that worked all the better. She took it off again to allow herself to tame her red locks under the scarf, before replacing the jacket and applying her hat and glasses, feeling confident with her work before running out of the door. The sweeping winds rushed to meet her, as her feet landed on the paving stones leading towards the Institute's gates and her heart thumped against her ribs with excitement and the feeling of freedom.

After hailing a cab and getting out within the streets of Manhattan, she had often haunted as a youth, Clarissa's feet took off, of their own accord taking her towards her destination, through muscle memory alone. She felt conflicted about what she was doing, this could be risky, she was only in a disguise that could be easily uncovered, she wouldn't be able to give any real answers to anyone who recognised her, and Clarissa had no idea what anyone had been told – so Luke could get in serious trouble here. But she had to see him, even if that was all she got to do. She missed him dearly, and wondered how he'd been. Clarissa knew Luke had loved her mother deeply, and for some unknown reason, he had kept his feelings from Jocelyn and they'd never gone past being close friends; and now her mother was gone from this world. He must be in ruins. She stopped in her tracks, realising that she had no real plan for this trip, and yet here she was already a few mere steps from the man she'd considered her father. Her heart was once again thumping against her ribs, but now it was with apprehension, longing and worry.

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What is going to happen now...?

Author's Question: has anyone else read the Iron Trial yet? Ohgosh ! Brilliant read - so compelling I finished it in two nights, meep!


	5. Chapter 5: Better Make the Risks Count

**_Dear readers, I apologise sincerely for the time this has taken me :(_**

**_I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life recently, and a huge dose of writer's block which resulted in this great big disappointing break. But don't think I've been going around not feeling guilty for not getting this chapter out. :(_**

**_I apologise for any frustration and disappointment caused by my tardiness, but as I've said before I wish to update this, as and when I want to or feel I can. I feel if I put pressure on myself to release work within a set time-frame, it'd steal all enjoyment from writing._**

**_But I've got a couple of days off at the moment, so should be able to make some progress!_**

**_This may seem like a bit of a filler chapter, but please bare with me. I've been thinking over some interesting ideas that I'm going to start tying in._**

**_Now, without further ado I accredit all Characters, Races, certain places and the basis of this fanfic, to the wonderful Cassandra Clare._**

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Clarissa tugged the holey fabric of the old parka around herself even tighter, trying to ensure that her Fray-typical hair was well hidden, and then she walked as casually as she felt possible, given the circumstance, past the book-store eyeing up whether Luke was at work. The place seemed desolate; causing her heart to constrict as guilt took hold, and a stricken look to form upon her freckled face. Luke had always kept the shop presentable, updating the window display with new releases and pieces of interest as often as necessary within an independent business; now the same business had a barren display and books piled around in store. What had happened here?

And yet, the 'Open' sign still stood out boldly upon the smeared glass of the door. Clarissa just had to take a look, she had to find out more about what was going on. But she knew better now after her training, she had to be careful, running head on into the store could be dangerous, Clarissa would have to utilise her new found skills and blend in to the situation. If that was possible, whilst wearing such a ridiculous disguise! Sighing in exasperation, she casually pushed the door open, setting off the tinkling bell overhead, making tracks towards a section on gardening that had once been as prim as the customers who used to come downtown just for this store. It provided a perfect advantage for Clarissa to investigate, as she could see the entrance to the backroom which led further on to Luke's house, alongside the empty space surrounding the bookshelves that lined the walls in the back of the store. She picked up a book, and opened it, feigning interest, as she walked towards the till.

Upon the desk surrounding the till, she found piles of letters, it even looked like there were some cards amongst them, and it only took her a second to guess that they were expressing peoples condolences, which caused her eyes to itch. She needed those words of kindness too, and yet she'd missed out on it all because of the Shadow-world she now lived in. The questions circling within her mind reiterated the importance of this trip. She needed answers. She needed Luke, and as of yet she had not laid eyes upon the man or evidence he was even within the vicinity.

Until she spotted the frame of his glasses, poking out from underneath some letters. Piquing her curiosity she decided to look around the desk a bit more closely. She found the letters dated from a week before, meaning that he'd only just received them two or more days ago, and seeing as Luke didn't normally go without his glasses this either meant he'd only just got himself ready to read them earlier today before he got distracted – or that something had happened to him. Yet there was no signs of a struggle anywhere within the store. He had to be somewhere near. Meaning that she may just get found out if she doesn't act any quicker. Finding comfort in the thought of Luke's absence being caused by distraction, she returned to her ruse, waiting to see if he'd return.

Yet within five minutes, the voice she heard along with the tinkling of bells, as someone apologised profusely for keeping her waiting, was that of a young woman, not the sound of Luke. Aghast, Clarissa glared at this intruder; clearly Luke had not been so in love with her mother as she had thought, if he could find a new squeeze so quickly.

But within this woman's apologies came an interesting tid-bit. "The store has been so quiet since I started looking after it for my friend Luke Garroway, two days ago, that I'd just gone to get myself a coffee and some lunch, I didn't realise I'd actually miss a customer – I'm so sorry! Just give me a sec and I'll be with you." Clarissa's rage had subsided enough to let her curiosity lead her mind. "No, no that's fine. But do you mind if I ask where the owner is? I'd asked him to help me, specifically, the other day and he'd said today was fine, and yet no one phoned to tell me any differently?" Clarissa couldn't tell where this accent was coming from but she liked it's effect.

With bulging eyes the woman squirmed, looking around the desk for something before grabbing up a list of something scrawled in Luke's writing. "Oh, oh.. I'm so sorry Ms...? Uhm. I can't find a name on here and there's no numbers...? It must have completely slipped Luke's mind. I really can't apologise enough! I swear he isn't normally this fickle. Oh my gosh..!" Leaving the woman to squirm a little longer, she considered the facts raised so far.

From what she is saying, Luke has been keeping with it, heck he might have been changing displays as he had to go do whatever he is off doing, and that is why the place is such a mess, by the looks of it too he did leave in a hurry – two days ago, as he had merely left a small list of things to do. Whenever he'd left Clarissa or her mother in charge of the shop it had been on planned business trips, meaning he'd left a detailed booklet of what he needed to be done. Meaning he most likely didn't expect to be gone for so long. But what had dragged him away from here?

"Well... I guess seeing as I haven't seen you working here before, I can't expect you to help me. Do you know how long Mr Garroway's business will keep him?" Clarissa cut in, arching her eyebrows in the most intimidating fashion she could muster, realising this woman did not recognise her, and trying to make use of her panic, to squeeze information out of her. Just as she had been trained to do. "I'm sorry, but he couldn't give me a definite answer, he could very well still be away for another week for all I know, I'm just stuck here trying my best to help out a friend in need... You know he's been through too much, don't let this stop you from coming back here please? He needs as much custom as he can get!" She huffed out. At which point curiosity got the better of Clarissa.

"So, are you his girlfriend or something? You seem very concerned for Mr Garroway?" Clarissa mused, which made the woman squirm even more. "No, not at all – not that it's any of your business! He's a good friend. I just said I'd help out – sheesh!" She stormed off towards a pile of books mumbling to herself. It looked like she'd overdone the questioning and was no longer welcome, so Clarissa exited the store claiming to be taking her custom elsewhere, for now. Once outside and away from the window, Clarissa slumped herself against the wall, reconsidering the reconnaissance she'd achieved. But the guilty feeling did not leave her. For one, if she'd insisted on finding Luke after she recovered from the Ravener attack, instead of moping around at the Institute maybe Luke wouldn't have to ask strange people to look after his shop, he wouldn't be avoiding mail and well wishes like the plague, and he'd be coping better if she'd been there to support him; and for another thing, she'd assumed he'd already moved on and disregarded Luke's feelings for his mother. How could she?

Well, it was easy to see how she could. She was angry, confused and in need of a familiar face. All of the risks she'd taken coming here, seemed to be in vague, and she'd most likely get in a lot of trouble back at the Institute. But still, she should know Luke well enough. Or rather, she thought she should have. These past couple of months made her question that once again. What had he meant that night, when he said 'Your people', if he knew of the Shadowhunter race, then he'd have to be a part of her new world, he had to be a member of the Shadow-world, there was no doubt about it. But there was also something else she couldn't doubt. She absolutely had to make something good come from the risks she'd taken today, and she had a feeling she knew how to do so.

Clarissa once again made tracks to her destination, pulling the hat down further over her face, and the parka's collar closer around her thin neck. She headed towards her old brownstone, hoping to find some of her own answers. Clarissa hoped she may even be able to find some of her own mother's Shadowhunter past within their home, that would be of use to her. This was the biggest risk she'd taken all day, but well, if you're going to get in trouble, might as well make it for a good reason!

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_**A.N**:_

_ This is a learning curve for me, so hopefully if I decide to do any future stories I can take my lessons with me. So as I've also said before, please leave reviews. If you've come into this story and decided you hate it, or it's lacking in some aspects, could you drop me a quick review to say why pretty please? And if you want to question where I'm taking this story, or want to answer the questions I pose, could you jot down your thoughts? :)_

_I once again thank all of you beautiful people of the internet for your views and interest in my story. To those who have favourited the story and follow it's progress I send appreciation 3. I hope I can keep providing you with a fanfic to enjoy._


	6. Chapter 6: A Mother's Box

**Hello again guys,**

**Shock horror! I've managed to post two chapters in two days, what's going on! Well like I said I had a few days to myself, Chapter 5 was already half done, and this just follows on so it was easier to write. Don't know if I can say the same thing for the next chapter, we'll have to wait and see.**

**Thanks once again for all of the views, and for my latest review anime girl 25.2 ^^**

**Please keep sending me reviews with what you like/dislike about where I'm going - I'm interested in hearing your views! **

**All credit for Characters, places, species etc. goes to Cassandra Clare ~ I'm just a major fangirl.**

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On the approach, the brownstone appeared normal. Almost as if there had not been a brutal attack, and her mother's death within it's walls. Clarissa could even see Madame Dorothea's neon sign lit up in the downstairs window, and that gave her the creeps. Surely the 'Psychic' knew that her mother had died right? Yet here she was, still running her business as if nothing had happened in the home above her head. But, yet again, Madame Dorothea had never been a normal neighbour; she kept to herself and seemed to resent helping out the Fray household, complaining at any little sound they made, and she generally made things awkward, so maybe it was heaven for her. Clarissa scoffed at the thought, as she considered how she was going to manage this. As anyone could guess, she had no real plan for what she was intending to do.

However as close to the house as she currently was standing, it's glamour started to lift. It still took it's time to shift, despite the training she's been undergoing, something that frustrated both herself and Hodge greatly, so it was no wonder she could not notice it before. She could now see the broken glass of her bedroom's window, and the scratches all over the window frame, where before it had appeared as a completely normal house. The thought of people walking past this building everyday, without a clue as to what happened to her and her mother, sent a shiver up her spine, and in the reflection of the glass door Clarissa could see she'd turned a shade paler. But it also shifted her focus to the door.

Now, the front entrance was usually left unlocked in the daytime, so that Dorothea's customers could come and go as they pleased, so that didn't really pose a problem, and if Clarissa was lucky there was already a customer in the lower apartment so she could get away with getting up the stairs unnoticed, but what about the front door of her old home? When Luke had come to her rescue the last time she was here, he'd taken the rest of the front door off it's hinges – but surely since people have obviously worked on the house, they'd repair that too right? So her issue was not knowing what she'd find blocking the way. But still, she would never know if she never got herself closer to her goal. Taking a deep breath, she lightly and quietly moved up the steps leading into the entryway, and shouldered the door open wishing it to make no noise, before creeping towards the bottom step of the staircase, leading upstairs.

It was at this point she heard Dorothea chant away behind her door, and that Clarissa knew that she would have a lot of time to work with, as Dorothea could go on for about an hour when in one of her trances. At this thought Clarissa ran up the stairs, as apprehension had got it's hold on her, and she had to know what was left of her home. Her breath was taken away, as the remainder of the glamour faded away from the top landing, revealing the empty space in which her front door had been, and showing the state of her mother's furniture now in bits across the kitchen and front room floor. There were streaks of black and red all over the place, alongside the rotten smell of demon activity, and it turned her stomach, making her dash towards the kitchen sink, which she clutched at for quite a while, depositing the contents of her stomach.

Once Clarissa had recovered enough, to consider where to start her search, she splashed her face with water and washed her hands, then she pulled up the scarf around her mouth and nose, preparing herself to work around the stench. Her mother's easel was on its side, and there were tubes of paint strewn all around the room, along with scraps of canvas where a demon had obviously had fun destroying her work. Clarissa found one of her mother's pieces, and picked it up admiring it. As a child, she'd always felt that her mother had the ability to create art that made you feel as if you were there. Jocelyn had created these beautiful landscapes that drew you in, stealing your emotions from you and manipulating your imagination; Clarissa had always put it down to immense skill – but thinking back it is obviously a part of being half angel. For Clarissa seeing this art asunder made her heart hurt, so she placed it on the windowsill which had panes of glass still behind it, and moved her gaze on to the rest of the room.

Drawing from her studies, Clarissa knew that a Shadowhunter must first assess the area. There were several answers she needed, such as 'where the attack had started', 'was there a fight', 'what species were involved', 'any clear up required..; and so on. Looking around the room it was evident the attack had started by the front door, it then looked as if her mother had moved it into the kitchen as there were scratches across the tiled flooring, and a dent in the fridge door, but there was also a scattering of cookware, meaning that her mother must have been defending herself with a pan, there also seemed to be the remains of a meat knife sticking out from underneath the fridge, clearly her mother had fought back, before making a run for the bathroom. Clarissa knew she had gone to the bathroom from there, because that is where she had found her, after running home from Java Jones. Her mother had made a strange phone call asking Clarissa to stay with her best friend Simon for the night, and then Clarissa had heard a pounding on the door, and the fear in her mother's voice as Jocelyn tried to hurriedly end the call.

But why the bathroom? That was something she'd been thinking over for the several months since, and where had her mother's body gone, too? Walking towards the bathroom to inspect the room, she noticed something she hadn't seen before. It was a wooden box with elaborate engravings etched into it's faces, and upon the top were the letters 'J.C', but then Clarissa felt a pain in her head and a cloudy memory came to the top of her consciousness – she had seen this box before, at some point in her childhood. It had been a stormy night, and it was past midnight when Clarissa woke scared of the thunder and went to crawl in to her mother's bed, but when she pushed the door open she'd found her mother crying over this very same box. Jocelyn had closed it quickly, then concealed it somewhere wiping her tears on a sleeve, before another roll of thunder came and took Clarissa's mind off the questions on the tip of her tongue. These cloudy memories were important and yet Clarissa could not recall them at will. Something was surely wrong with her memories and she had to talk to someone about it, but first she had some investigating to do.

Taking the box from its resting place upon the floor, Clarissa saw that it had a claret red velvet lining, and it had been storing something, but what Clarissa did not know. A further question to arise within her mind, was what it was doing in here. Did her mother hide it in the bathroom whilst she made her strange phonecall? Was it why she'd suddenly told Clarissa that they were going away to Luke's farm – did she have something to tell her? Now she would never know, but the box had still been important to her mother, so she picked it up as she left the room, turning her attention to the final fact she had to establish. What species had been involved in this attack. It seemed obvious to her, that there had been Shadowhunter and Ravener involved, but still she looked around, and still she was surprised. There was a single set of footprints on the floor. Luke had huge footprints, and wore boots most of the time, whereas these footprints were smaller and left a strange pattern in the pool of ichor they formed in, so she knew these hadn't come from when Luke had saved her. So what else had been involved in her mother's death? What did this mean?

With her head reeling, Clarissa hurried herself up, she needed to get back and mention this to Hodge, yes she'd get in trouble but she needed answers and he was the one who'd put the glamour over this place. She also assumed he was the one who removed her mother's body. She took herself over to her bedroom, following the streaks she'd left here the last time. The door was still close shut and the chair lay on it's side in her way, kicking it further aside she turned the key still in it's latch and opened it up to the state her room was now in. Fury flamed within her, all of this destruction happened to her and her family, and yet everyone acts as if nothing has happened. Questioning how it was fair, and fighting back tears, Clarissa picked through her things, bringing her mother's box with her to her bedside, where she placed it as she went to grab up her messenger bag that still had her other art supplies inside, Clarissa then took it over to her wardrobe and pulled out some of her clothes, and a box of photos of her mother, Luke and best friend Simon, she was certain she would need these anywhere she went. Then she finally placed the box in with her other items, and set off back out of the room, as she could see the evening sky through the shattered window the beast must have broken through, and knew she had far to go to get back to the Institute. As much as she thought she may have been tempted to stay here, it was just a house. Without her mother it was no longer a home.


	7. Chapter 7: A Touch of Boredom

**Hello again guys, **

**Well what can I say, I've been pretty inspired with this bit of the story-writing and I guess I know where it's going so here we go again, yet another chapter. **  
**I cannot say if I'll be able to keep spoiling everyone like this, as I'm currently only getting a bit of spare time as there is no overtime available at work - so y'know. **  
**Hopefully I can, and I can keep satisfying the readers of this fanfic. Once again I wish to thank everyone who has read the story so far, and for my favourites and last review thank you so much ^-^ 3 **

**So this chapter is a little bit different, and I want you to let me know what you think! Pretty please ? **

**Without further nonsense; all credit for the characters, names, places, and races go to the magnificent Cassandra Clare. **

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They had all been busy again today, talking about their favourite topic of the season – Clarissa; Jace was growing bored of this, he craved for conversations with more depth and interesting matters, but instead he had to put up with the jealous taunts and condemning of someone he or his 'friends' didn't even know. These people he called his friends, had been laying into the newest inhabitant of the Institute at his lead, and yet he had no idea of why they had been doing this. It was yet another thing he had grown tired of. Ever since Jace Wayland, had been forced to come to the Institute himself, he has had the compulsion to be repulsive towards others, with one single phrase stuck within his mind. "To love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed." In his efforts to continue to please the very man who had put that notion in his head, Jace had bullied, coerced, pressured and monopolised every other person within the Institute, and yet he dreamed of being able to just say the things he wished to, of being the nice adoptive brother the Lightwood children thought he could be, of opening up his heart at the right times; and yet here he was.

He was lucky that his parabatai and Isabelle could read him so well, that they could see that there was something holding him back from showing his affections, and that they didn't take this fact too heavily to heart, nor did they pry too deeply. He arrived at the New York Institute at the age of 10 and the Lightwood children knew he was different straight away, but they could also tell that he was not someone to be pushed for answers, but Jace also guessed they would have thought to have had these answers, of his own accord, by now. Still, as it always plagued his thoughts, he knew he was still under his father's influence. Michael Wayland had been a very influential man, and Jace took comfort in knowing that he was not the only person to have experienced it. But no comfort at the thought of what he'd done to the only other orphan within the Institute.

Jace felt he could have eased this transition for Clarissa more, before he had ran away with the thought of toughening her up through stealing and destroying her possessions, and thus ostracised Clarissa from everyone else, as she became a bright red target for the others. This was yet another situation which dragged him down, as he could not get away from the memories of that day in which he had watched as the cracks had visibly appeared within Clarissa's visage, the day in which he had destroyed something so valuable to her. He could tell by her face alone that it had been truly important to her and yet he had gone ahead with the attack, despite his internal battles over the matter. Putting on this false air of arrogance and disinterest, was an attempt to cover up how truly affected he was by his own actions, and it seemed to work, but also changed the people he counted as friends, before his eyes.

Aline Penhallow, had once been a shy and curious young girl, but had now changed into a completely spineless bitch, who sought to find flaws in everyone and call them out for it; Helen Blackthorn had gone from showing compassion and kindness in all her actions to being heartless and unheeding in her verbal abuse, her brother Mark following her lead for obvious fear of persecution; The Lightwood siblings had picked up a disinterest in other's feelings seeking to appear as a solid unit with Jace and he knew that the main cause for all of these changes within his peers had been his poison. Yet he couldn't bring himself to change, and to change back these people. He just had to keep up the charade and harass Clarissa. But now, he was so tired of all of it, he could no longer bring himself to contribute to the abuse they were currently planning to hurl at her.

As they were cooling-down after training the previous evening, Hodge had informed them that Clarissa was now at a level of training he felt adequate enough to allow her to train with them all, a fact that took Jace quite aback as it had taken Aline and the Blackthorns quite a while to reach that status – even with the previous training they'd underwent at other Institutes. The fact that Jace was one of their generations best Shadowhunters had been raised with the Consul, and as such Hodge had been sent further children to train, but they had struggled matching up to Jace and as such took longer in the initial stages that Clarissa had just been put through, however this 'Mundane' individual was now joining their team, a few months after joining their world. All but Jace were outraged, and livid with jealousy so they had been planning out exactly what they wished to say to Clarissa. It had become too much for Jace, so he'd stepped outside the Institute for a walk, and had come to a rest against a wall by the imposing doors that led into the vestibule, thumbing his family ring thoughtfully.

It was at this point that the sound of the heavy gates opening, caught his interest, looking up from his resting place he caught a glimpse of fiery red hair under a shabby old hat and a ridiculously short person wearing a tattered old parka jacket. He knew who it was immediately, but had no idea what she was doing and why she looked so ridiculous. He just absolutely had to follow her, and he could tell his day was about to get interesting for it. The only fault in his plan, being that she was now getting into a taxi, he knew he could run fast, but doubted that even he could keep up with a New York driver. However, this very same driver just dropped a used napkin out of the window, and Jace considered it as good an item as any to place a tracking rune upon.

Having waited for the driver to get out of sight, before pulling his stele out to rune the napkin, Jace then hailed a taxi for himself, noting the streets the taxi turned down and the direction he was heading in from the vision now playing out before his eyes, showing him exactly what the other driver was seeing, and once his own taxi took off he told his own driver the exact way to go, and where to stop having finally caught up to Clarissa in some traffic, he made it to the same street she got out on, and managed to dip down a side alley before she had a chance to catch him. Once hidden, he runed himself to be soundless and invisible then stepped out into the street once again seeking her frame amongst the mundanes, and following her once again from a distance.

Clarissa seemed conflicted, he hadn't had much time to study her moods and expressions but he could guess that much, from the way in which she suddenly stopped in the street and started tapping her foot, or biting her fingernails as she was now. Jace could tell that she was attempting to work something through within her mind, and he could also tell by the way her head kept flicking in a certain direction that it was to do with this queer book-store she was now close to entering. This girl was a weird one, he could definitely tell that from the way she was acting now. Not that it hadn't been obvious from the way that he'd spotted her dashing in between 'secret' passages within the Institute, and generally scuttling around the place like some mouse. He couldn't get used to someone like Clarissa, he found it unnerving.

So he continued to watch her through the glass, hoping her distracted behaviour and lack of experience with glamours would stop her from noticing him effectively stalking her. This was almost fun, Jace was savouring the feeling of knowing something Clarissa didn't want anyone else to know, and also the thought that he could use this against her at some point. Just like the colour of her hair, Clarissa had struck something within the young Shadowhunters of the New York Institutes' life, fire. Jace could tell that she was about to tear things up within their normal lives, and he couldn't wait to see the results. Or see where this excursion was going to take the shorty for today. Using the many alleyways, and side streets at hand within Manhattan, Jace stalked Clarissa for the rest of the evening.

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_**A.N.: So, did you like the use of a different perspective ? Should I continue to include these other characters POV, or just go back to my original third person of Clary? Let me know please!** _


	8. Chapter 8: Following Her to Where?

**_I've been so busy, but I think I should give up trying to apologise for it as it is obvious I'm going to keep letting other things get in the way of my writing :(_**

**_It all started with another bout of writer's block and serious confusion on my part of where I wanted to go next and how I wanted to develop this fanfic. I was getting agitated at myself as it seemed that I kept creating filler chapters, so I got put off and it carried on for ages._**

**_Then I was working 6 day weeks and all hours to try and save up for a trip to Norway at the end of April - and I'm only getting over the Holiday now! It was totally worth it though, and I'm now glad to say that I have another chapter for you guys._**

**_Let me know how what you think ;)_**

**_~ It should be obvious but I own no rights to the Characters, Races or Places about to be mentioned. All rights belong to the wonderful Cassandra Clare._**

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Watching Clarissa closely, he saw her entering the Book-store, so moved towards the store, keeping cover at the edge of the window whilst his invisibility rune did it's magic. The uncertainty she had seemed to hold outside was still written all over her face, and he could see her poking her nose around a small counter towards one side of the shop – she spent about 5 minutes staring at the clutter, as she moved around the counter, before he could see her face clearly again and a different emotion displayed across it, some kind of mix between determination and confusion; something Jace had never experienced, so it piqued his interest even more. His father had taught him to be decisive, and to rule emotion out of his actions – everything he needed to do had reason, and all he ever needed to do, was carry out the necessary in order to achieve a goal. Yet as his father had told him, he had been too weak to learn this lesson fully. All the same, whenever Jace decided to do something, all he had to do was look at the facts and act upon them. Clarissa decision to look at the facts in front of her and yet still feel confusion seemed alien to him.

It was at this point that he could hear footsteps and smell the aroma of coffee heading towards him, so he quietly slipped into the doorway of the next store, waiting for whoever it was to pass, but they didn't and instead he heard the tinkling of a bell as the Book-store's door allowed access to whomever it was. Returning to his previous spot he could see Clarissa's face twist in rage, if only for a second. It seemed that whatever exchange was going on between the two, Clarissa was getting her own way, her face slowly changed to show more relief, but her confident attitude also seemed to change to one of awkwardness, before she made way for the exit, clearing the door before slumping against the wall outside. Jace watched as she took a few moments to herself, studying her as she did so – thankful to the fact that she obviously still found it difficult to focus her Sight as his cover would have been completely blown otherwise.

It was at this point that determination came across her face again, as she pulled the parka closer to her small frame, and took off down the street ahead of them. Jace found it easy to keep up, but knew he'd find it difficult to get back to the Institute unless he made note of the direction they went in. So staying a few steps behind her he took the time to consider his surroundings as they went along. Within a short amount of time the buildings around them changed from businesses to housing, and he could see a row of brownstones in the near distance – it was here that Clarissa headed for and in particular one with a neon sign in the window. But it was at this point the smell of demon activity invaded his senses, along with the underlying scent of different races – he could see that a glamour had been placed over this house and that there was a broken window on the upper floor. Feeling the slight vibration of his Sensor hidden in his pocket he could tell that something bad had happened here, and he wondered why a girl who had supposedly grown up as a mundane would be here. He could tell by the familiarity of which she opened the door that this place had meant something to her, but what he could not tell.

Deciding to keep close to the little red-head, Jace silently followed her through the entrance, allowing her to take a few steps ahead once they were through the doors. Anger and sadness now made it's way across Clarissa's face and he realised this must have been the place she had been attacked within, before coming to the Institute. Jace followed behind her thankful for the rune magic that kept her unaware of his actions, as she quickly made her way up the stairs, and nearing the top he could see a doorframe with only the remainder of a hinge as evidence there had once been a door within it. Standing within this very door frame Jace took in the sight before him, Clarissa was standing in a room surrounded by debris, there was furniture smashed all around and blood smears across the walls and floors. But there were also pictures of a child with flaming red hair, that were so clearly Clarissa that it all came together for Jace – this had been where she had grown up, unknowing of the Shadow-world that surrounded her. Jace now felt as if he were crossing a line, this was a special place for Clarissa and as much as he wanted to know more about the new vibrant individual within his world, he didn't want to have to explain this – so stepped outside to wait for her to finish whatever she'd come here for.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Jace finally caught sight of the red-head leaving the brownstone's front door, but he didn't see the expression he had been expecting to see upon her face. Clarissa was carrying the look of someone riven within themselves – she seemed enraged by the visit and not so distraught as he was expecting, which led Jace to further confusion, and intrigue as she was also carrying a bag that seemed to be full to the brim; what had she seen that had incited her so much? What did she want so badly from a place Clarissa knew could put her at risk? What had this whole expedition been about? Jace would find out, one way or another.

Following in her steps as Clarissa once again took off, along the streets surrounding the house that stank of demon activity, Jace started to wonder how he would have reacted if he'd been able to return to his own childhood home – the same home his own father had been killed in. Would he have the same reaction as the young girl walking within the dull light of the evening in front of him? Would he find something to anger himself as Clarissa clearly had? He had been contemplating these thoughts without paying any real attention to where Clarissa had been heading, for too long it now seemed, as he suddenly realised they were heading towards an unsavoury part of town filled with dank alleyways. His Shadowhunter senses kicked in preparing him for anything that might come for Jace or Clarissa.

But he never could have guessed what was going to happen next. Clarissa amazingly avoided the path he knew to be the most dangerous, obviously having been told stories or having read the Mundane news must have put her off using the path, Jace had nearly forgot that she grew up within these streets, that she knew her way around and therefore the ways to not get around. Allowing his heart to slow a little he continued following Clarissa, listening out for any hints of an attack. Which led to his attention focusing upon the sidestreets they passed and not the path ahead of Clarissa.

"Clary...? Is that you? But it can't be...!" The strangers voice ran out in hushed agitation. Clarissa had froze in the street ahead of him, as what appeared to a Mundane, teenage boy reached out to her with an aghast look upon his face. He could hear Clarissa stuttering with fear in her voice as she tried to speak, before the mundie spoke over her. "Clary? It's me?! Are you okay? Where have you been? I mean talk to me Clare!" The stranger grabbed at her then and Jace moved in for the attack, coming up short as he watched as Clarissa threw her arms around him in tears. "Simon! I've missed you so much! I can't believe it's you.." Jace was dumbfounded and still poised to attack, yet it was coming apparent that his help was not yet needed, as Clarissa took to sobbing into the shaggy-haired boy's shoulder. "Clare what happened to you? Do you know how worried everyone's been!... Luke has been an absolute mess! I've got to tell someone... People need to know you're alive Clary! I... I thou-thought you were dead!" The anger had now drained from this Simon's voice and he was sobbing over Clarissa's hair.


	9. Chapter 9: Where a Mundane Must Fall

**Hello again guys, **

**I managed to get this chapter out quite soon after the last! Mostly because I've been ill so I didn't pick up overtime this week, and therefore I had a day off to work on it, lol. **

**I hope you've been enjoying the story so far, and that you continue to do so.**

**Let me know what you think of this chapter, is there anyone in particular you wish to see included in my story? Then let me know guys, please? **

**_~ It should be obvious but I own no rights to the Characters, Races or Places about to be mentioned. All rights belong to the wonderful Cassandra Clare._**

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At the sound of that oh, so familiar voice Clary was struck immobile. She did not know whether to try and run away, or to run and hug the boy she had grown up with since childhood. But before she could make any decision he was there in front of her, and the pain she could see etched across his face was too evident and the pain within her heart was too. She had to call out to him. "Simon! I've missed you so much! I can't believe it's you.."

Clary was left asking herself what she was going to do now... Her life was no longer the same. It was no longer safe to have her dearest friend following her on her life's path, and yet this was the same boy she had once thought she would never make any of life's decisions without. She couldn't process anything at all and despite her efforts at disguise she should have known this would happen – for the time being all she could think to do, was to seek comfort in the shoulder that had long supported her through life; something she'd been wanting to do so much since the death of her mother, as sobs racked through her body. But there was so much more to consider too.

Which all became apparent with his following questions. "_Clare what happened to you? Do you know how worried everyone's been! Luke has been an absolute mess! I've got to tell someone... people need to know you're alive Clary! I... I thou-thought you were dead!" _There was no way that Clarissa could fully consider her limited options fully at this moment, yet there was also no way she could run away from the situation and avoid all of the oncoming mess, as she really had the urge to do. She had to attempt to handle the situation, she just didn't know how. She was stuck still as Simon sobbed over her small shoulder, trying to think over what to do next. What could she say? What would he believe? Did he not deserve to know the truth? But what good would it do?

Clary calmed her breathing and talked over her friend's shoulder "...Simon. You, cannot, tell, a soul, that you have seen me... I don't want to have to be the one to tell you this, but... Luke already knows where I'm staying... He hid me away there for my own safety."

Simon pulled away from her quickly, looking at her with wide eyes and then anger as it sunk in that he had been lied to, a better reaction than she had been expecting, so she continued on. "Don't get me wrong Si.. Luke has probably been a mess... It's true that my mom is dead... That we were attacked and I haven't had any contact with Luke since that night – so our family is torn apart... Don't get mad at him please...?" She looked up to find shock in the place of anger, and it lead to her own face showing confusion... What was he shocked about?

"Clary... Luke never told me your mom was dead." Simon said holding her up by the top of her arms, as new sobs racked through her. "Luke told us that you were both missing... that there had been a struggle but you had managed to get away? What do you mean your mom is dead?" Pain tore through her heart as she tried to understand this new information. "...But, you said that people thought I was dead... I saw my mom in a puddle of her own blood crumpled on the ground... Have you not seen my house?" She couldn't get her head around this idea and she was leaning in to her friend heavily as she struggled to breath. "I said that because it's been four months Clary! No sound nor sight of you and the cops had no leads... Don't tell me Luke did something to you both?! What do you mean he took you somewhere for protection? What the fuck is going on?" Clary was crushed once more by the events of that night and the fact that no one else knew what had happened to her family.

"I wish I could tell you Si... I really wish I could... But, no Luke had nothing to do with this... he saved me in the end. But I don't have all the answers myself, and even if I could tell you what I do know, I doubt you'd believe me..." The red head confided to her closest friend. "I don't get what you mean Clary ? What would I not believe?... I believed you to be dead and yet here you are a few blocks from your home.. and I now believe you are alive... I believed that Luke had been looking for you all of those times that he went disappearing from the shop and his house... and yet now I hear he knew where you were all along, and I believe in that.. so what is there that I would not believe in.. because I don't think there is much more to this story that would lead to disbelief Clarissa.. " Clary could hear the anger raising in his voice and it sent even more pain through her heart. "Clarissa Fray you had better start telling me the rest of what happened or I swear I'm making a call to 911 to get you institutionalised.." The final tear fell from her eye and Clary knew what she had to do... there was going to be no way of protecting Simon from this, the only way forward was to come out with what she'd learned so far.

_.-o*0*o-._

Simon Lewis' eyes were now orbs within his familiar face, and were nearly all she could make out within the darkness of the back-doorstep they were now sitting in, within the alleyway where they had found each other. Clary had sworn him to secrecy, before starting back at the beginning of the night that her and her mother had been attacked, explaining that she had left him at Java Jones that night after getting a strange call from her mother, asking her to stay away from the house, that she had ran home fearing for her mother's welfare, and found half of the front door to their apartment within it's frame. Clary explained that once inside she found the room in tatters, with bits of their life together strewn across the living room and kitchen, and then she had found her mother, in a pool of her own blood, in the bathroom - after running through her home in hysterics calling out for help that didn't come – which is when she'd heard the sounds emanating from her own bedroom and she had run there to strike back at whoever had attacked her mother, without really knowing what to do. Then she'd explained how the creature had attacked her as well, and of how she had used up her last ounces of strength to fight it off, before it'd nearly killed her, and how Luke had saved her by putting her into the taxi that bought her to the Institute, and her 'Missing Persons' status. "Simon... there is a world hidden within our own... and it is a world I have always been apart of without ever knowing it. This is dangerous information, and not something that you can share with anyone at all, ever..."

But it was at this point that the snide voice of one of her tormentors could be heard... "Which is why you should have never left the Institute Clarissa Fray."

Clary's head turned at break-neck speed. How could it be him? Where the fuck had he just appeared from and what was he going to now do to her Mundane friend... The Shadow-world was supposed to be protected from the Mundanes as much as they were to be protected from the Shadow-world, and her confiding in Simon had just compromised both of these worlds and the secrecy that so importantly surrounded them.

"I can see your lack of Sight not only clouds your Shadowhunter senses, but also your common sense. What are you doing little red?" He questioned as she was currently taking a defensive stance in front of her Mundie friend. Before he could say any more though the shaggy-haired fellow was now forcing Clary to get behind him and was getting in Jace's face; as the two fought over who, would protect who, Jace watched on in amusement before giving the boy one blow to the head knocking him out completely, which enraged Clary. The next thing he knew she was throwing strong kicks at his sides and legs, whilst attempting to use the same move he'd used on her friend, against Jace. He was impressed at the fast pace of which she pressed her attack, but she was not quite yet a match for him, and he managed to pin her against the wall, holding her there as he pulled out his stele to draw a 'Sleep Now' rune on the back of her slender arm. He felt bad for what he had just done but knew that she could not be allowed to go around telling Mundies about the Shadow-world they lived in.


	10. Chapter 10: You're a Danger to us all

**Hello guys,**

**I've recently just moved and I've been getting used to life in my new town. As such here's a bit of a shorter chapter that I've written on my phone, so please excuse any errors! **

**I will try to continue writing like this and maybe I can try to update more frequently this way, it's just a bit harder to review my efforts lol**

**I hope you continue to enjoy my story. I'll be happy to receive any reviews even if you wish to tell me I'm terrible - just tell me in a constructive manner!**

**As it is ever clearer I own no rights to the characters, races or places within the Mortal Instruments series - all rights belong to Casssandra Clare.**

**See you soon.**

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**You're a danger to us all.**

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The last few things Clary remembered were the seething rage and agitation she felt towards her aggressor, the panic she felt for her friend, and the pain searing into the back of her arm as she was restrained in the dark alleyway they all found themselves in. Clary knew she had put in a good amount of effort to knock out Jace, she had so badly wanted to get Simon away from the Shadowhunter, who so obviously followed her, that she had to. But now she had no knowledge, of how she had ended up here, in the Institute's infirmary, or where her beloved Simon was now. The panic she so clearly remembered before waking up in the uncomfortable bed she lay in, plagued her once again, forcing her to finally push herself into a seated position, where she came face to face with a very angered Hodge.

"Clarissa... I know you have only just gained awareness for the world we both live in... But I also thought you had intelligence. In our tutoring sessions, have I not, taught you that Mundanes cannot, in any case, be informed of the wars we wage to protect us all from the harm Demons wish to deal our world? Pray tell child, what did you aim to gain from involving this, inadequated Mundane, in your new life?" Hodge's eyes bore into her own, as she sat with her brain whirring to find an answer. However telling the truth seemed like the best option.

"Hodge... I.. I didn't leave the Institute yesterday with the intention of telling my best friend the truth of this world. It just happened... You know I was brought here the night I was attacked, and I was looking to make contact with that Mundane, not Simon. I don't know why, I thought it would be okay - going out amongst the Mundane, amongst my people, after all of the time I've been hidden away I just wanted to see him! But then he wasn't home and the questions I wanted answers for were still screaming within me. I went to the remnants of my home, Hodge... I've seen that my Mom's body has been moved, did you do something to her? Has she been buried? Why wasn't I allowed to go to her funeral?! Why was I followed?!" An angry sob wracked through her causing her pain at the back of her throat, as she fought to breathe calmly. All emotion that had been pushed to the back of her mind, when confronted by her best friend, was now forcing their way out and were now mixed together with the panic rising within her at the thought of what she had done to Simon, or what they could be doing to him; and the anger of being followed. Each heartbeat passed with pain and she was biting back her tears, waiting for an answer. Hodge's expression gave her no relief.

"...Clarissa. I don't know what to say... If your Mother's body has been moved, it had nothing to do with myself or the Institute... Unfortunately that may be another question for your mystery Mundane, who already knows too much about our world. But this Simon child? You were silly to tell him anything, even more senseless to have even been discovered in the first place, were you not Runed? My word Clarissa you are a danger to us all - and yet you were so promising!" Hodge finally changed from the angered tutor to his usual exasperated self. But they were both interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Isabel Lightwood stood at the doorway to the Infirmary giving Clary judgemental glances as she came to report on Simon. He had been taken to a different part of the Infirmary and was treated for his slight concussion with the herbs and ointments they had to hand, but they needed Hodge's expertise as their limited knowledge of healing without the use of Runes had come to an end. With one last hateful glare at Clary, Isabel left to continue watching Simon. They were holding him here until they could decide what to do with him, knowledge that caused Clary much dismay.

"Clarissa... This conversation isn't over, but I need you to consider what you have done. You haven't only put your own life at risk with this act, but your friends' as well. You should know better... But don't think this gets you out of your lessons, I still expect you to be joining the others in their training by tomorrow at the latest. As you learnt last night you still have a way to go so prepare yourself. Put the questions of your old life to the back of your mind... You have a purpose now." With the last syllable Hodge was exiting the room ready to see to Simon's care, and Clary was left alone with her thoughts from yesterday and her tears fell freely now.


	11. Chapter 11: Oh, Little Red

_Ehhh I went on holiday again, so I got distracted with getting ready to go away so neglected the story once again. _

_I hope you enjoy this update and that you continue to follow the story despite how slowly I may write!_

_Thanks for your views, favourites and story follows I really appreciate them :3_

Of course I own no rights to the Mortal Instruments characters, places, races or tools.** All rights belong to Cassandra Clare.**

***Coming back to working on this story, and rereading the past couple of chapters I've just noticed a continuity error - sorry people!**

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**Oh, Little Red you have a lot to learn.**

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After some time, and the bedsheets becoming damp with tears, Clary began thinking over the information Simon so freely gave her, and of her own discoveries, of the day before. Hodge had just stated that he had nothing to do with the removal of her mother's body - so that was soon added to the list of questions she now had for Luke; along with the likes of "Where do you disappear to, when you abandon the shop and your home?", or more importantly, "How do you even know about the Shadow-World?". The possibilities swirled within her head, along with the painful memory in which she learnt that no one besides herself, Simon and Luke now knew the truth of what had happened to her Mother. There were still people hopeful of finding her, with a different grief to her own growing within their chests. The thought of a loved one being out in the world alone and lost somewhere, was a far more painful thought, than knowing that they had passed beyond this world. At least Clary knew 'Where' she would see her Mother, if she did ever get to see her again, and that it was a place past pain and fear.

Clary soon realised that she had also failed to ask about the Glamour now covering up, what had happened to her home, or how no one had heard sounds of the attack to report? Most importantly she had failed to mention, the issues she had with recalling childhood memories - why did it cause her physical pain to think of the past? But there were still further questions that she knew no one else would have answers to, such as why had Jocelyn called Clary to merely ask her to stay away, why had she not phoned for help? Had her mother known of someone coming after them? Was that the reason for the sudden trip to Luke's farm? Then, Who would want to harm her Mother and herself? Why had Jocelyn grabbed that unusual box, and why go to the bathroom? Her list was continuing to grow without any resolve. This was getting frustrating, and her tears had now dried. She was no longer that same girl, who cried to herself.

Along with the fact, that Simon was now involved in the World she now lives in, Clary was beginning to feel the strain. But not only did she have to come to terms with all of these facts, she would still need to train, incredibly hard, in order to return Jace the favour he just paid her. Clary Fray needed to hand Jace his own arse. Which is the fire she needed to get out of that bed; however as she tried to push herself onto her feet, the bruises that had formed across her atms and legs, without her knowledge, now decided to sting, it was made worse by the fact that no one had bothered to give her an Iratze, not even her Tutor, and she had no Stele of her own.

"A bit sore Little Red?" His arrogant tones now added to her pain, and looking up from the Infirmary bed, the smug look upon Jace's face was enough fuel to get her up on her feet, and in his personal space. "What the fuck do you think you were doing? Why did you end up in that alleyway? What, are you seriously that sick, and twisted you couldn't even leave me alone for one day?" In her frustration she shoved him backwards, only causing pain to shoot up her arm, from Clary's wrist. An obvious mark of the badly placed attacks she'd tried the night before. Sighing with rage and exasperation, Clary turned from Jace and attempted to compose herself. There was never a need to give someone like Jace the attention, or to waste the energy needed to give it to him.

"Why bother to ask someone like you?" Clary scoffed. "What did you come here for? It's obviously not to brighten my day.. So get on with it, there's coffee to drink, targets to hit." Her interest was caught by pots and jars of various sizes lining the cupboard at the edge of her bay, and she was turned away from her tormentor, as she studied the various labels. "You will be joining myself and the others in our physical training, *tomorrow. (AN: **_oops_**) I just wanted to suggest you attempt to get some more practice in. But don't force yourself too hard, it's slightly impossible to improve on something so terrible.' She only managed to aim her scathing glare at his back as he turned to support himself against the wall, as he doubled over with laughter. But it was at this point she caught a glimpse of the remnants of an Iratze across his shoulder, exactly at the point she had landed a kick the night before, so as much as he was trying to deny her efforts, she'd caused harm.

This burned within her heart with a greater ferocity, than anything else pushing down on her at that moment in time. The hard work she had been putting in; the secret training sessions in the early hours of the day, whilst then continuing to take the abuse hurled at herself as she tried to nourish her new body, and the hours of tutoring she had to spend with Hodge, were starting to pay off. She inwardly grinned to herself."Look, I seriously find it hard to understand what caused you to think you had the right to follow me yesterday, but you won't be doing it again." Clary said with as much calm as she could muster. "Don't even start to consider what you thought you saw. You have no right to any information about me, especially when you'd just try to use it against me. So, never speak of it again, and you remember that pain I made you feel, because next time it's going to be a lot worse."

His laughing had now turned to a deep chuckle, and he moved too quickly for her to react, shoving her against the wall in his speed, pinning her there by her shoulder. His golden eyes were now burning into the green of her own. "I think you have a lot to learn about me yet. Information you will have to learn quickly. I am considered one of the best Shadowhunter's of our time, and I am only 17, think about that carefully Clarissa before threatening me." The force of which he said this caused a shiver to run down her spine, before he then forced his stele against the shoulder he was still pinning back. Leaving an Iratze to form upon her pale skin as he left the bay, and her staring opened mouth against the wall, as the pain now ebbed away with the bruising from the night before.


	12. Chapter 12: Small hands, big climb

_Hello, _

_This took so long :(_

_Well, quite embarrassingly I got very neglectful with this story and managed to lose the work I had been writing in the fanfic doc manager! I also gained access to an expansive online library, and my partner treated me to Lady Midnight (~swoons~) so I've been busy obsessively reading and re-watching past seasons of The Walking Dead!_

_I also confused myself with where the chapter was heading, previously I was using my laptop, and I had a huge word doc with all of the story in it, so I could read over the last chapters before continuing, but when I went on to using the doc manager on the fan fiction website, with my phone, it became harder to check on my past work._

_So, I'm starting this chapter over again, thankfully I was given a tablet for Christmas, and it therefore gives me a better platform to work from (as I have a word processor&amp;can save my work &amp; I can type away without having to wait for a computer to load.) n.n_

Thankyou for the continued views, I hope you like my take on ** 's story**!

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Her mind swam. Maybe, with all the secret training and studying within the Institute, the mess within her mind, had somehow began to organise itself; but now these questions were itching to be answered; she had to find out how her blessed Mundane, Simon fit into this new life; and how the heck she was going to wipe the smug grin from Jace's face.

With the remnants of a burning sensation, just leaving her shoulder, and the dissipating pressure easing over her brow, Clary knew that without that recently adorned Iratze, she would have the mother of all headaches right now. Trying not to be thankful toward her tormentor for the current relief she was now feeling; Clary took herself from her bay within the infirmary, she could now see the familiar shape of Simon, heaped on a bed within a bay several away from her own, but she recognised the way his chest rose and fell, as his typical deep sleep, curious to try and see what they were treating him for, she approached Jace, Hodge and Isabelle where they stood surrounding the bedside.

On close inspection, Clary could see that Simon was indeed sleeping well, so well he'd scared the Shadowhunters, a race of people accustomed to rising from their beds, at the slightest sound of danger. Within hushed voices Clary could hear Hodge asking Jace to repeat his recollection of knocking Simon out, Isabelle's immediate defence of his actions, and the fact that they'd tried all the rousing herbs they had available,without success. Clary made a mental note to tell Simon this, within the first moment she got alone with him. It was hilarious to see the 'super race' so alarmed about a person's ability to sleep!

Satisfied with Simon's status, Clary wandered off in the direction of her room, she intended to take a shower and find a change of clothes; interestingly enough this was finally the point at which she noticed that her recently acquired holey parka, hat and scarf along with her satchel of personal belongings were now waylaid, the thought of what had happened to them (or herself in their removal) sent another shiver down her spine and she soon hurried on with her business.

Having scrubbed her skin a satisfactory shade of pink, in the attempt to erase any trace of Jace and his accomplices' touch, Clary tried searching around her room for the items in question, maybe everyone had noticed the bits she'd picked up from around the Institute and had taken them back? The thought amused her, if only for a split second. Spotting an oddly placed pile on her desk by the window, she inspected it more closely and found the items she'd grabbed from her home yesterday stored neatly at one side. The fact they were placed there in such a fashion obviously meant that someone had gone through her stuff, she was so severely creeped out now. Did this mean she could have no privacy? She couldn't leave the Institute without being followed; she couldn't keep in contact with her friends; and she couldn't have any belongings of her own, without inspection, what the hell was up with this place?

Adding this to the growing list of things she had to work out, Clary tried taking a moment to collect herself. Sinking into her desk's chair, she reached out to her pile of stuff in search of something as important as her phone had once been, moving books, drawings and art supplies aside, she finally came across a heavy and glossed piece of paper, containing the image of her Mother. Finally getting to have another look at her Mother, for the first time in months, Clary began to search Jocelyn Fray's face for any hint of the life they'd hidden from. Within Jocelyn's curved mouth, she could now see a sterness that stopped the smile from forming fully, the glint within the eye no longer conveyed happiness, but an astuteness Clary had never really paid attention to before, but now she could see it within the memories she did have a solid grip upon. Her Mother's glances around a restaurant they had just sat down in when visiting another town; the need to get away to the middle of nowhere whenever Jocelyn could take Clary, so that she could get a break; her Mother exhausted and yet unable to get to sleep at a normal time, as Clary had often heard her Mother tottering around their home at 3am. Clary had returned home, searching for an answer as to why her Mother had left the Shadow world behind, and yet all she came away with, were more questions and her best friend now at the mercy of the people who had made her new life, hell.

Clary became restless; there were too many questions piling down on top of her, and with that came too much stress for one short, redhead to deal with at this young, of an age. Maybe this was why all her fellow teenage, Shadowhunters were always so angry and irritable? Stroking the cheek of her Mother's photograph one last time, as she set it down amongst her things, Clary headed off to the one place she knew would help. Seeing as it was going to be freely accessible to her now, she no longer needed to hide her love of training. This was by no means, doing what Jace Wayland told her to do, as of that moment, she needed nothing more than to get her sweat on, in order to burn these over-bearing emotions and stress to mere memory.

Going to the small wardrobe beside her desk, Clary opened the door to find her comfortable black treggings, and baseball tee (so nicely provided to her by the Institute). Pairing them with the only shoes she currently owned, a pair of calf height Docs, she quickly pulled on her ensemble and headed out to the top floor of the Institute, naturally she was going to use her hidden passageways to get there, even if she was free to go as and when she wanted to from this point on, Clary still wanted to avoid the hate likely to be thrown at her from the others, once they found out Hodge's plan for tomorrow.

Making it to the attic in record time, Clary congratulated herself, as she begun limbering up for the work she was about to put in. As she slowly reached forwards across the floor to do her thoracic extensions, stretching the newly defined muscles of her back, Clary considered what she wanted to practice; either one of her weakest points, balance training or aiming at distance, were going to be strengthened today, she just had to decide what scared her less, climbing up on to the beams well above her head, or picking up the throwing knives again. She couldn't decide which would provide less embarrassment if she couldn't do well at either task, when in front of Wayland and company, but knew that she'd need her balance training to prevent her own death. (She cared little if a throwing knife accidentally hit one of her tormentors.)

Going over to an alcove near to the back corner of the training room, Clary picked up a pair of climbing gloves, took off her boots for better grip, and readied herself to haul up the rope dangling from the balance beam, above the middle of the room. Being short seemed to put you at more of a disadvantage, there seemed to be more of a climb, and it took ten minutes for her to feel the smooth edge of the beam. Pulling her torso up over it, before placing her legs either side, Clary caught her breath. This was one of the main reasons for her focusing her strength training upon her back and torso, core strength equated to improved balance and she was hoping she wouldn't need the mats several feet below her today, without a stele of her own it would hurt, a lot; her Shadowhunter blood could only protect her so much.

Sweating, gasping for air, and at the end of her nerves, Clary finally sat herself back down. She hadn't been doing anything extraordinary but it still sapped the energy from you, some of her stress was now gone and she hadn't killed herself yet, so Clary counted it as a good bit of training. Just as she was shuffling towards the end of the beam to get back down, the training room door opened; she lay flat on the beam, keeping a tight hold of it with both her arms and legs.

Enter Jace and Alec, talking loudly and being as obnoxious as ever. But Clary didn't know what to do, she didn't want Jace to think she'd listened when he told her to get more practice, and she definitely didn't want them to see her sweating so much from one session on the beam. But she kind of wanted to show off her gymnastics, and dismount from the beam in a diving-roll, right in front of them. (Don't ask how she practiced that one.) Because she knows she has taught herself to be a freaking bad-ass; the fact still remained that she did not own a stele and would therefore need their help if anything went wrong, Clary was certain that would be even more embarrassing.

Deciding on the lesser of two evils, Clary shuffled along the rest of the beam to slide down the rope. Wrapping the rope around her hand several times, Clary then swung one of her legs around to do the same with her ankle, at this point she finally let go of the beam and started her descent, it was easier than the climb up, but still allowed for mistakes to happen, and happen they did. About half way down the rope Clary's hand and ankle both came loose from the rope and her other hand couldn't grab hold of the rope in time; she was now free-falling. Closing her eyes preparing for the impact, Clary came into contact with a hard surface even sooner than she was expecting, but she felt very little pain.

Slowly opening her eyes, Clary came under fire from a golden glare. She was currently on the floor in the arms of an irrate Jace.

"What was that?" He seethed. "Do you think that's a display of how ready for training you are! This is ridiculous! Come on, get off me already." Jace shoved her out of his arms and took Alec's hand to get back to his feet.

"I've voiced my opinion about this several times, and this is exactly what I was talking about Jace. We shouldn't have to listen to that crazy fool, as the future head of this Institute I should be able to call the shots - and they would definitely not include allowing a Mundane to train with us." Alec's hatred oozed from him in waves. "If we allow this farce to continue any longer more of the real Shadowhunters will get injured trying to save this one." He snarled as he stabbed his finger in Clary's direction.

Still in shock from her accident, she sat on the ground frozen in place.


End file.
